Thoughts of You
by DaisyDay
Summary: I love old fashioned romance stories. One of my favorites is "Sleepless in Seattle". In this love story, Mike and Connie separately find that they are meant for one another. Like "Sleepless", I had the two characters get together at the end.
1. Chapter 1

THOUGHTS OF YOU

Chapter 1

Most employees would be happy when their boss is away on business.

ADA Connie Rubirosa thought she would feel that way, too. Her boss, EADA Mike Cutter, would be leaving to lead a symposium on "Criminal Law: the Law of Unintended Consequences" at Boston University. His absence would give Connie more freedom in juggling all the different cases she had pending working in the DA's office.

It was mere hours before Mike was to leave. The DA's office, was abuzz with a workload of cases. Office workers and law clerks walked back and forth, filing, answering phones and looking up facts for cases. In the distance there was the whirring sound of a fax machine.

Connie's desk, though neat and tidy, had a stack of files that needed to be dealt with. She had arraignment court this morning and motions to file as well as subpoenas in the afternoon.

Connie sighed and looked up from her files to give her eyes a rest. Her desk was situated outside Mike's glass enclosed office. She could see him in his office, pacing up and down, revising his lecture. He wore a pressed dark blue shirt, which matched the color of his eyes, tucked neatly into dark dress pants. He didn't have court today so he had loosened his tie. She liked when he appeared more casual. As he paced, he would toss an old baseball back and forth between his hands as he walked. He would be in motion and then stop every now and then when a new idea struck him. Then he would enter something in his blackberry and continue pacing. He never stopped thinking or moving. Always a bundle of energy, she thought.

Not that she had a lot of extra time to just observe him, she thought. Along with her other work, she also remembered that she had scheduled a deposition in the late afternoon for a witness. Connie knew she would be so busy she wouldn't even have time to think about her boss.

As she was busy reading a file to prep a witness on a case, someone plopped another file on her desk. Of course, it was Mike. He swung around and sat at the chair situated to the side of her desk, like so many times before when he wanted to discuss a point with her. It always seemed so natural for him to sit next to her like this instead of the formality of his large office.

"Another case, Mike?" Connie inquired, lifting an eyebrow in surprised, "I don't suppose you've noticed how swamped I am already?" He reached over and tapped the file with his finger.

"A new case came across my desk this morning." He leaned in a little more, "I'd like you to be first chair on this case."

Connie felt shocked and pleased at the same time. "You think I'm ready?"

"Are you kidding?" Mike responded, "Did you forget how you kicked my butt on the Dressner case?" That had been two months ago. Due to a Legal Aids strike, Connie and Mike had been placed on opposite sides of a case, with Connie representing the defense. For most of the case she had been winning the case. The Judge's rulings seemed to favor her. The Judge had even one time berated Mike for the police mishandling of evidence.

Connie had thought everything was going her way until later in the case the judge also berated Connie for misrepresenting herself in order to obtain evidence. As Mike and Connie stood in the hallway alone after being scolded by the judge, Mike made a subtle comment to her as he casually looked around, "…looks. like. the. paddle. spanks both ways…" At the time Connie had been so angry for losing her motion, but now when she looked back on it, she smiled at Mike's wry sense of humor.

She realized she was smiling just thinking about it now and quickly recovered into serious mode as Mike explained the logistics of the case.

"I know you'll do great, Connie," he said reassuringly. To her disappointment, he slowly got up to leave.

It was time for him to leave for JFK, "uh…if you need advice…or something…."

The last part had been awkwardly stated, as if he didn't know what else to say. Mike shoved his hands in his pockets. Connie knew he harbored a crush on her. It was pretty obvious. The way he looked at her. Especially when she wasn't looking. Or sometimes the things he would say off-handedly.

One time she had told him someone had stated in an e-mail that she was the "total package" and he had muttered half to himself (sitting in this same chair next to her desk) that he had "completely agreed" and then he looked thoroughly embarrassed by the comment. She just ignored it, although she was secretly pleased.

These moments were rare, however, because most of the time Mike Cutter was known as a tenacious prosecutor who would bulldoze through a case in order to win a conviction. No one had even seen this softer side of him.

However, despite the crush, he had always kept things on a professional level. Just like she was always professional with him. He was her boss, after all. There was nothing personal between them, she insisted to herself.

Mike and Connie exchanged goodbyes and then she watched him as he walked away. She felt a twinge…or maybe a small ache... She shook her head. I need to get back to the cases, she thought, although still wondering what that feeling was and why.


	2. Chapter 2

Here is the next chapter. I've included some court procedures because I'd like to think that our favorite almost-couple Mike and Connie would feel that work is just as important as play! Please, please review, and thank you so much for the people who have already left some encouraging reviews!Chapter 2

The next day court was humming with sounds of confusion and disorderliness when Connie arrived. The judge hit the gavel, a signal that arraignment court was to begin. Random defendants and their lawyers were scattered throughout the courtroom as they waited for charges to be brought before them as well as their pleas.

Connie stood on one side of the room, a pile of folders in front of her. She only had an hour to review the five cases, but as always, she was ready. Connie asked for indictments in the first four cases, presenting different bail amounts according to the defendant's case and crime.

The fifth case was the case she was personally trying.

The bailiff announced the case number. Her case. Jane Henderson, a fragile, attractive college student stood by her lawyer on the other side of the courtroom, her head hung in sadness. The judge consulted the folder and asked Jane's lawyer for the plea.

Not guilty, your honor," he said.

The judge looked up and noticed for the fifth time that Connie was again representing the prosecution.

"Well, Miss Rubirosa," the judge peered from the top of her glasses, "It's you again. Perhaps the DA's office needs to play tag with the other attorneys more often."

"Yes, your Honor," Connie respectfully responded, "The people are seeking remand."

"Ridiculous!" countered the defense lawyer, "Your honor, my client was the one who reported the crime. She has no criminal record. During the trial her plans are to live with the Aunt. She has lived in this state for over 15 years!"

"Your Honor," argued Connie, " Miss Henderson was the only one in a locked hotel room with the victim. Her fingerprints were on the knife. The Aunt she allegedly will reside with owns her own travel agency. Detectives recovered her passport in an easily accessible place. As far as the 15 years goes, that's 15 years of having access to her father's private jet as well as his yacht."

"That's the COMPANY'S jet and yacht," the defense lawyer insisted overlapping Connie's protest.

"…which she already used on 30 trips alone this year at her own discretion." Connie always came prepared.

The judge lifted her hand to stop the bickering. Remand was granted and Jane was led away to jail.

It was early evening before Connie could return to her desk. It had been a long morning with arraignment court. Later, she had spent most of the afternoon at the 2-7, Police Headquarters, to confer with Detectives Lupo and Bernard about the case. Luckily DA Jack McCoy had promised to lessen her caseload so that she could concentrate on the Henderson case.

She stacked her completed pile of cases and carried them over to leave on Mike's desk. His office seemed so quiet. The blinds of the large window behind his desk were down for the night, casting an orange hue to the room. She took some time to look around his office.

When this had been Jack's office, it had been filled top to bottom with law books. But now…there was a model of a staircase that went nowhere…and then there was the baseball bat in the corner…a pencil drawing of a body was up on one wall… and what was up with the ax embedded in a slab of cement on his file cabinet? She spent more time with him than anyone else, yet there was so much she didn't know about him. But asking him would be out of the realm of their office conversations. She sighed. She needed to get home.

As she was leaving the desk, she happened to glance down at the worn baseball he kept on his desk. It was getting late and she was tired, but Connie reached out to pick up the baseball.

She held the baseball and turned it over, carefully looking at it from all angles. So worn down and yet so obviously beloved. It was a strange feeling but she liked the idea of touching something that he touched often. It was almost comforting.

Someone interrupted her thoughts. "I miss him, too." Connie looked up and saw Jack leaning in the doorway. Connie quickly placed the baseball down and pretended to be restacking the already neat pile of folders. It didn't fool Jack. He half-smirked but knew better than to comment. He instead asked about the Henderson case.

The case seemed pretty straightforward to Connie as she explained the case. A murder in a hotel room. Fifty-three year old Mark Henderson had been found dead with a knife from the room service cart plunged deep in the center of his back. According to Detectives Lupo and Bernard, his daughter, Jane Henderson was the only one in the room. They had checked surveillance cameras and no one else had entered or left the room except a hotel employee pushing the room service cart inside the room two hours earlier.

Jack folded his arms and looked down as he listened to the specifics of the case.

"So what's the girl's defense?" Jack asked in his usual compact phrasing.

"She claimed she was in the shower" Connie said, "She claimed she didn't hear a thing so maybe someone else had entered the room. But the doors and windows were locked from the inside. No one else had gone in since earlier that morning. Couldn't be suicide, either as the knife was in the victim's back. With her fingerprints, no less."

Jack paced the room a bit, "The easiest cases always turn out to be the most difficult to prosecute. Plus the jury will love her. Young, bright, beautiful girl with an impeccable background. They'll probably go for the poor-rich girl defense."

"Let them," Connie confidently acknowledged, "And I will show the _spoiled_-rich girl side instead."

Jack nodded approvingly, "I like the way you think."

After Jack left, Connie took one more look around Mike's office. The calmness seemed so loud. The room had lost the orange hue. Evening had arrived. Connie was done for the night. Her case was shaping up nicely. She didn't need any advice from Mike, but she suddenly longed to hear his voice. It would be so reassuring.

The ringing of Connie's cell phone reverberated through the office.


	3. Chapter 3

So while Connie tries to juggle her personal and professional life, I thought it would be nice to check in to see what was happening with Mike Cutter! Please review to let me know what you think!

Chapter 3

That same night in another state, EADA Mike Cutter stood in front of the mirror of his room at the Hyatt Regency Cambridge Hotel in Boston. He was adjusting his tie for the faculty soiree tonight.

Damn, I hate these mandatory social functions, he thought. Now he knows how Jack felt when he said politics gets in the way of doing his job. Speaking of his job, Mike would give anything to be in New York trying another case instead of pushing a legal political agenda. But it's all part of the game.

He glanced over at the credenza where he had placed his cell phone. He had already spoken to Jack that morning and was told everything at the DA's office was running smoothly. He didn't specifically ask about Connie's case, although he wanted to. Maybe he should give her a call to see how the case was going. Yeah, the case. It's the case he's interested in. Mike gave a "humph" to himself. Who was he kidding? He just wanted to speak with her. He looked at his watch. Past seven. Maybe she was out. Maybe on a date. No! Not a date! Maybe an early night run to Baskin-Robbins for the chunky-monkey ice cream. He liked that idea better. But he really didn't know. They never talked about such things.

Being such late office hours, it would be awkward if he called her about work. After all, she made it clear that they are only colleagues.

But, he reasoned, there's always a first time for NOT talking about work. Maybe she might even consider him a friend. A good friend. Someone who could call her anytime. Mike thought of ways he might be able to casually call her without making it seem awkward. How would he casually greet her if he called her? He cleared his throat.

"Hi-ya, Connie," he practiced with a smile, looking at himself in the mirror. He rolled his eyes. Hi-ya? Really? That's the best he could do? Who was he… Mr. Nerd Reject from Geek University?

Try again, Cutter. This time he tried not to sound so perky, He lowered his voice. "Good Evening, Connie." Damn and double damn! Am I talking to Connie or the Queen of England?

Mike adjusted his tie and went downstairs to grab a taxi.

The Hotel Commonwealth stood elegantly above Kenmore Square in Boston. The gathering was already underway in one of the ornately rented rooms. Lawyers, faculty alumni and University faculty members with their spouses sat or wandered around the room as waiters refilled wine glasses or offered delectable appetizers.

Here we go, thought Mike as he straightened his suit collar.

"Mike! Mike Cutter! What a surprise seeing you here!"

Mike smiled as an attractive, older woman approached him. Defense lawyer Estelle Adams greeted him warmly. Of all the defense lawyers in New York, Mike admired and liked her the best. Besides being a smart and fair lawyer, she was a true friend, despite they're being on opposing sides in court. Recently they had worked in tandem as prosecutor and defense lawyers to prove Judge Malcolm Reynolds of being incompetent in performing his duties as a judge due to his dementia.

Estelle placed her arm through Mike's as she escorted him around the room.

"Finally, someone I can have a decent conversation with," Estelle said in a low voice, "I heard you were in town to head a seminar. I'm here as an alumni member. The things we have to do to keep our careers active!"

"You look great, Estelle," Mike said as he patted her arm reassuringly, "Where's Warren?" Warren was Estelle's husband.

"He's here somewhere," she answered, waving about the room, "—and what about you? Bring someone to share this exquisite experience of boring small talk?"

"No, didn't want someone thinking less of me."

Estelle tilted her head as she looked at Mike, "Still no one special? No one's got her hooks in you yet, Mike?"

"I didn't realize, Estelle, that birds were chasing after me," Mike replied dryly.

"Mike, Mike," Estelle shook her head, smiling "…if I was only 15 years younger…"

"…we'd be known as the Bickersons," Mike joked.

"Only if we were on opposite sides of a courtroom," Estelle said ,"which we are definitely not tonight. She lifted an appetizer as a server past by, "Mmm…these stuffed mushrooms are wonderful… In all seriousness, Mike, I think I could introduce you to some very charming, eligible women, some may even be here tonight."

Mike shook his head. "Estelle, you know how crazy it gets in the DA's office. There isn't time for any type of social life."

Estelle took another bite, "Well, so you say, but all work and no play makes a very grumpy lawyer." She paused before adding, "Wait…what about your assistant; what was her name? Miss Rubirosa, isn't it? I've heard some really impressive things about the work she's doing in the DA's office. She's attractive and brilliant, too. You two would make quite a stunning pair."

Mike tried to hide the wistfulness in his voice, "…if only…."

The next day Mike stood on the podium at the lecture hall at Boston University in the College of Arts and Science building. The room was huge and the 300 seats it could accommodate were filled to capacity.

"…so in summary," Mike ended, " the law of unintended consequences is an idiomatic warning that an intervention in a complex system always creates unanticipated and often undesirable results—or to put it in terms that even I can understand—it is simply "Murphy's Law', lawyer-style". A few smatterings of laughter could be heard throughout.

The Dean of Boston University School of Law stood up to shake Mike's hand as a standing ovation filled the room. Mike gestured a humble thanks. As the Dean thanked Mike, he also stated that they will break for now and panels will begin in the afternoon.

Later that day Mike met up with Dean Louis Lateef in his office. The Dean was an older white haired gentleman with a prominent chin.

"Mr. Cutter," said Dean Lateef began, "I must say I have been most impress with your lecture these last two days. Your presentation totally engaged the audience of future law students."

"I thank you, Dean Lateef," said Mike, "it has been an honor to lecture at such a prestigious University."

"Yes, Boston University law school has an outstanding academic reputation. I believe we are unmatched in intelligence, energy and success."

"Well stated," Mike agreed.

"However, that is not why I have asked you here, Mr. Cutter."

"Oh?"

Dean Lateef got up to sit on the corner of his large oak desk to be closer to Mike.

"I'd like to make you an offer, Mr. Cutter," Dean Lateef put his hand up in case Mike wanted to protest prematurely, "Now hear me out. Our law school could use a new, vibrant Law Professor such as yourself. Your reputation alone will bring prestige to this univerisity. So I'd like to offer you a position as a Law Professor at Boston University Law School."

"Dean Lateef, I am quite flattered that you would even consider me," Mike surprised and not sure how to respond "but I have to say, I am quite content as a New York Prosecutor."

"I see," noted the Dean. He got up and went and sat behind the oak desk again. "I was hoping you would come on board because of what we could offer you and what you could give to us. But I see that is not enough to convince you. I didn't want to have to strong- arm you but if that is what it takes, I will do it. I was made aware that in pursuit of attaining your law degree, certain standards were not met in receiving your BA degree. Of course, it was due to certain mishaps that were maybe beyond your control, but nevertheless you never received one. If you can pledge to become part of our faculty for two years, I can make the reprimand by the bar overseers, the entry in the law journal, well, everything…they can all go away…"

As Mike Cutter listened to Dean Lateef, he only had one thought. Connie.


	4. Chapter 4

So as Mike contemplates his professional future, Connie is busy dealing with her case. And her social life.

.

Chapter 4

At the same time that Mike was speaking on the law of unintended consequences in Boston, Connie was _experiencing_ _it_ in New York City.

Morning had arrived and Connie was at the 2-7 with Detectives Lupo and Bernard. Being early morning, only a few of the administrative people were in. Even Lt. Van Buren hadn't checked in yet.

Connie knew it wasn't good news when she received a call at the office yesterday, late evening. Lieutenant Van Buren had called with bad news that the room cart attendant who had visited the Henderson's hotel room that morning was found stabbed to death in the hotel alleyway.

"…looks like the case is wide open again," Bernard commented.

"But there's no real proof the killings are related," Connie insisted, "this new victim—Sameer Patel—had pushed the hotel breakfast cart in the room two hours earlier on the day dad Henderson was murdered. Maybe there isn't a connection."

Lupo looked apprehensive. "Strangers whose lives had intersected for a moment, two fatal stabbings, and with the same hotel being the common denominator? Coincidences don't come more obvious than that," he said, "at least we know Jane Henderson isn't a serial killer. She was in lock-up when this murder occurred."

"-but she could be in cahoots with whomever committed this," added Bernard.

"Okay," Connie said, "I'll get a search warrant for Patel's bank records and for the food cart that had been used on the morning of the Henderson murder. I'll also file a motion for a continuance. Meanwhile, get me a copy of the surveillance tape."

The two detectives nodded.

Connie left One Police Plaza for her office. As she opened her car door, her cell phone rang. She checked caller ID. It was her sister, Corina. Great, she thought sarcastically. Connie sat in the front seat of her car without turning on the engine and pushed the button on her phone.

"Corina? Hi. Is everything okay? I'm on my way to work from Police Headquarters."

"Hey, Connie…good news!" her sister's voice came through the speaker phone.

"What is it?" Connie tried not to sound impatient. She had so much to do.

"I finally got in touch with Steve and he's anxious to meet you!"

"Steve? Steve who? Corina, what are you talking about?"

"Steve! You know, Steve!" Corina excitedly responded, "Remember I told you about him? Two weeks ago? The owner of the biggest Jaguar dealership in the tri-state area? I told you I would talk to him about you. I think when I showed him your picture, that just sealed the deal!"

"What? No… What! Corina, I told you I wasn't interested!" Connie was flipping through her files, as she spoke, "which part of NOT interested didn't you understand? The N, the O, or the T?"

"Probably the O. Ha. Ha... Anyway, listen, he's gorgeous!" Corina could not contain her excitement. " And I was thinking Saturday would a good time for you two to meet."

"No."

"Aw, come on, Connie," Corina almost sounded whiny now, "The guy is cute and he has connections. Connections, like…get this!… he was able to score two tickets to the Yankees game this weekend. That's why I thought it would be great if you two went this Saturday. That would work out perfectly for you two. You know…no pressure. Relaxed, casual atmosphere, lots of people, things to look at…and the best part, he could watch the game instead of listening to you yapping on and on about lawyer stuff..."

At the same time Corina was explaining, Connie was already thinking of excuses. Then her mind clicked when Corina had said 'Yankees game.'

"Wait" Connie put the folder down that she had been fumbling with,"…you mean a baseball game?"

"Well, duh!" Connie imagined her sister rolling her eyes, "Yankees? Hel-looo! Of course a baseball game!…Yeah,I know, I know… you've never been to a baseball game before…you have no interest in baseball… who cares? You'll be with a cute guy! Plus they're really great seats—right behind home plate!"

Baseball. Connie thought to herself. Baseball. True, she had no interest in the sport, but she sometimes wondered why baseball held a fascination for certain people. Like Mike. She thought again of the baseball he thoughtfully kept at his desk. How did he suddenly appear in her thoughts? This time, however, she didn't push thoughts of him aside. That was not in her character to run away from her feelings. She was ready to face whatever came her way. Maybe this was a chance for her to understand him better. Suddenly Saturday was looking good.

It was late morning when Connie arrived at her desk at the DA's office at One Hogan Place. Back to reality mode. Looking through her office window, she could see Jack waiting for her. Probably about the new development regarding the Henderson case. Not good.

"Jack," she acknowledged him as she entered to hang up her coat.

"What's going on, Connie?" asked Jack, "I expected you to be writing up your summation and now I hear there's a possibility that we may not have the right killer locked up."

"Complications, Jack," Connie said as she placed the Henderson folder down and sat in her chair, "I thought I had the whole case wrapped up, too. Yesterday I had sent out three subpoenas for schoolmate witnesses to testify that Jane had a loud argument with her father before they left for the vacation at the hotel. They said Jane had stated that she'd rather see him dead than spend any more time with him. We had means, motive and opportunity."

"Obviously that isn't good enough, Connie! Your job was to make sure no one _else_ had means, motive and opportunity, too. There shouldn't be any doubts about other suspects because there _should be_ no other suspects!" Jack blustered.

In all the years Connie had known Jack, he had never spoken in such an exasperated tone with her. Mike had been another matter with Jack, so Mike was often the brunt of Jack's frustrations. But it was different with Connie. As an assistant to Jack and later to Mike, she was always reliable and efficient. She did everything by the book. She hadn't heard this tone that Jack was using on her now.

Jack walked over and shut the door. He probably didn't want the other office workers to hear what else he had to say. From bad to worse, thought Connie.

"Connie," began Jack surprisingly less harsh, "You know you have always done right by this job. But I can't treat you any different than any other attorney in this office. If they don't perform a thorough job, I let them know. You are no exception. You needed to make sure you had explored every avenue before you arrested a suspect. I always say that you only get one bite of the apple. You know what will happen now? The defense is going to ask for a dismissal of the charges and then we'd have to refile-or then again, maybe we won't because we don't know _what the hell is going on. _This office will look incompetent and I will not have that!."

Connie was ready to defend herself when her cell phone vibrated. It was a text message. She glanced at the message. The message couldn't come at a better time.

"Look, Jack, I have to go. Jane Henderson's lawyer wants a meeting at Rikers. Maybe it's a plea bargain," Connie stated as she started putting her coat back on.

"Plea bargain? She probably wants an immediate dismissal. Just make this headache go away," Jack said and then as an afterthought, realized that he sounded exactly like Adam Schiff. He recalled what it was like to be at the end of a irritable reprimand. Probably he was being too rough, especially with Connie. Then he remembered something he had done and needed to tell her. "Oh, and just one more thing."

Connie was hoping she wouldn't have to defend herself anymore, but she could handle any kind of scolding from Jack. Just let her get back to work. " What more do you want to say, Jack?"

"Just wanted to end our talk with some advice. My advice. Sometimes it's good to step away from the case a little. See it through a more positive light. In other words, try to get inspired again." He stated.

Connie tilted her head, wondering what Jack could mean. "What are you talking about, Jack?"

Jack opened Connie's office door to leave and looked back, "Look in your top right drawer for a little inspiration." he advised. Connie could have sworn she saw a quick wink before he left.

Connie opened her drawer.

_Jack had placed Mike's worn baseball in her drawer._

(Please, please review and let me know what you think!)


	5. Chapter 5

Mike and Connie continue on with their lives as destiny intervenes.

Chapter 5

Before Connie went to Rikers, she stopped by the 2-7 to view the hotel surveillance tape of the morning of the murder. It was as the detectives had stated. No one had entered the room after Patel. She viewed Patel pushing the cart. Fast forwarding, she saw a smattering of hotel visitors walking down the hallway, but no one had approached the door of the Henderson's hotel room. Connie was stumped.

She arrived at Rikers Island later that afternoon. Jane Henderson and her lawyer were already seated in the small room, which seemed to double as a small prison due to the four walls being merely jail bars. The long, sliding jailed door loudly slammed shut after Connie entered the room.

Jane's appearance shocked Connie. In the three days since Jane had been in prison, she had lost weight, making her look tired and gaunt, with definite bags under her eyes. There was a look of hopelessness in her eyes.

Connie hoped there would be a plea bargain on the table but instead Jane wanted to proclaim her innocence. She had been sobbing throughout her declarations and Connie was beginning to think that either she was either telling the truth or she deserved an Oscar.

Despite how she felt about this girl's situation, Connie insisted that all the evidence pointed to Jane.

"Please believe me, Miss Rubirosa," she said through the tears, "I-I-I didn't do it. He is-was- my dad."

"I'm sorry," Connie not backing down, "but we do have a stack of evidence against you, including your fingerprints on the weapon."

"Oh, God…no..no…," sobbed Jane, "When I came out… of the… shower and saw my dad…laying there…I just wanted to take out the knife out of him…you know…maybe he wouldn't be… hurting so much… if it was out of him."

"Miss Henderson," Connie tried to steer back to the evidence, " I also have 3 witnesses that will testify that you wanted him out of your life to gain the inheritance money. You are the only heir, after all"

Jane looked directly at Connie, with her tear-stained face "…but that's not really true. R-R-eally. There's no money for me now. When I'm 21, yeah, I'll get some money, but I'm only 20. Why would I kill my dad a whole year early?" She buried her head and began to sob again.

Jane's lawyer nodded as if to say, _I'm glad you witnessed all this_. "I think we're done for today," stated Jane's lawyer as she led Jane away.

Connie remained in the small, enclosed jailed room long after Jane and her lawyer had left. She needed to think. Now she will have to subpoena the Henderson's will, too. The girl will easily get the jurors' sympathy with that performance. Connie started having doubts about her own case. How much is Jane involved with both murders?

She needed to clear her mind, just like what Jack suggested. Connie looked around the small cell. She remembered the last time she had been in this room. Cedric Stuber was convicted of a hate crime for killing a gay man. Mike's mentor and law professor, Emily Ryan was granted a retrial and was defending him. Connie was in this very room with Mike, Professor Ryan, Stuber and Stuber's co-attorney.

_Stuber was a young punk with an attitude. And Mike and Connie knew he was a murderer. _

_Professor Ryan and lawyer were playing hardball with Mike. When court proceedings had not gone her way, Prof. Ryan went on a tangent and revealed that Mike never graduated with a BA degree, thus making his law license invalid. The strategy was to make Mike back off from the case._

_ Suspect Stuber angrily pointed to Mike, "This guy's not even a lawyer…can he make a deal?"_

_ Connie stepped in to assure that he could, but Stuber was having nothing to do with a deal. Earlier, Jack had insisted that Mike make the lesser deal of manslaughter for 20 years; a truly weak deal for such a vicious murder. Mike hated that deal._

_Stuber was yelling now. "__**It's not as if he **__(the gay victim)__** was a black guy…or… a **__**SPIC**__!" He had turned his full attention to Connie, practically spitting out the words._

For a second Connie felt stunned. She knew she had to stay cool. She gave Mike that 'Can-you-believe-what-a-jerk-he-is' look. Mike looked back at her with a look she had never seen before. He pursed his lips as he worked to control himself. Something snapped inside of Mike. And Connie knew. Stuber should never have directed his anger at her.

_ "__**Our offer just went up to 25 Years**__!" Mike countered. When Professor Ryan implied that Mike's license to practice would be taken away if he pursued this case, Mike went ballistic. He didn't care, he imploded, because that would leave him free to testify that he had witnessed Stuber spewing a hate speech, making it a federal offense under the Matthew Shepherd act. Mike angrily slammed the table and got into Stuber's face while ending the rant with "…__**are you ready to do back-to-back sentences, Mr. Stuber? You will DIE in jail**__ …" _

Stuber reluctantly conceded and wanted to take the original 20 years offered, but Mike in a forcibly calm voice restated, "It's 25 or nothing. It's now or never, Mr. Stuber." No one should ever make it personal when it comes to Mike! She thought.

Connie had been depending on herself for such a long time. For once it felt good to be protected by someone. Mike, her 'knight-in-shining-armor'.

Now she knew the reason for that ache she felt the first day Mike had left. It was her heart.

It was also late afternoon for Mike in Boston. He had finished some moot trials with law students during the afternoon sessions at the University. These were practiced abbreviated trials, which focused on particular parts of a trial. During the mock proceedings, participates could cite actual cases. Mike found it interesting that one case cited was "The People vs. Cedric Stuber." He remembered well the particulars of that case. However that case was special to Mike for another reason.

_Suspect Stuber angrily pointed to Mike, "This guy's not even a lawyer…can he make a deal?"_

_ Mike and Connie had been standing by the jail bar door. She stood confidently, never wavering, while Mike stood by hesitantly, in light of Stuber's accusation. "Yes he can, Mr. Stuber," she stated unequivocally. "And if you have any doubts, I am here for your peace of mind."_

Connie had his back. Mike had been known as a 'scrappy' lawyer because he always had to fight his own fights, using whatever means possible to win. This one time he doubted his ability to win a fight, Connie was right there. His admiration of Connie increased tenfold.

The moot trials at the University were over and Mike headed out for dinner. He was meeting Josh Latham, an old friend of Mike's from the neighborhood. They both left Boston to practice law in New York, although at different times in their lives.

They were never really close friends. Although both men might be considered arrogant, Mike liked to think his was due to his earnestness. Josh was more smarmy, which worked well as an attorney, but not when a person is working for Jack McCoy.

Three years ago, Josh had been fired from the Rodchnko case by Jack. Josh always felt he could pursue his own agenda. Although Mike was similar in that he also would question Jack's opinions, Josh would just altogether ignore them. During the Grand Jury testimony on the case, Josh had tried to sabotage the case by showing their own witness had a muddy past, thereby invaliding the witness' testimony. This was despite Jack telling Josh not to mention the witness' past so that they could obtain an indictment. Jack replaced him with Mike and that was how Mike came to work with Connie.

Josh had then moved back to Boston and happily joined a private law firm, so he never held any hard feelings against Mike. Thus they could continue their infrequent, distant friendship.

They met up at Beantown Pub, a local beer joint. They talked about their careers and ate delicious hometown food.

Mike gulped the last of his drink. It had been a good night. But it was almost midnight. "Josh, I better head out. It's getting late and I have to be up early. Tomorrow's lecture will include the concept of how serendipity relates to the law of unintended consequences."

"Mike, are people actually attending your seminars? And enjoying them? Sheesh. Sounds like a snoozefest to me" Josh gave Mike a friendly pat on the shoulder.

"Boring or not," Mike said, "they still come. Maybe it's because I wear my lucky three-piece suits."

"Hold on, Buddy," Josh interjected as Mike got up to leave. Josh reached into his pocket, "I wanted to thank you for the time you let me stay at your apartment for three days when McCoy gave me the walking papers. I got these the day you called, telling me you were here in town." He pulled it out and smacked it down on the table, "No need to thank me now, but I would say we can now call it even."

Mike smiled when he saw what Josh presented him.

Two New York Yankee tickets for this Saturday.

(This was my favorite chapter to write. Please let me know what you think.)


	6. Chapter 6

Things are moving forward for our couple extraodinaire.

LAW AND ORDER 6

Friday was here and soon the weekend would come. Mike conducted a short panel presentation in the morning at the university. He would have the rest of the day off.

Mike packed up his briefcase. He was going to meet Estelle Adams and her husband for lunch before the couple leaves for New York tonight. They were meeting at Boston's famous Copley Square. Mike could have taken the Back Bay train, but decided the walk would really do him good. He had a lot to think about.

Mike was fond of Boston. He had lived here for a while before heading to New York. He enjoyed the college town atmosphere. Not only was Boston University located here, but Harvard, MIT, and Boston College were situated nearby. On his stroll he observed everything from faded brick buildings crawling with ivy plants, to spirited, rowdy Irish pubs. He passed The Museum of Fine Arts, Trinity Church and the Boston Public Library. Mike basked in the quaint atmosphere Boston had to offer.

Estelle and Warren Adams were already seated at the Globe Bar and Café when Mike arrived. They greeted one another and shared a bottle of wine. After the initial small talk, Mike told them about Professor Ryan, what she had done, and now the possibility of clearing his academic records with the law overseers.

"Humph," Warren grunted, "I figured one day that old Windbag would pull a stunt like that."

"Now Warren, that's not going to help," Estelle patted her husband's hand, "So what to you plan to do, Mike?"

"Truthfully, the knowledge that I've never received my BA degree has always been a thorn in my side," Mike admitted, "I revel in the idea that I now have the opportunity to clear that record."

"But to live here in Boston?" asked Estelle, "Wouldn't you miss your career in New York?"  
"Immensely," Mike said, "I love being an executive assistant district attorney. My work is extremely important to me. But it's not like I could never return."

"Take some advice from an old coot, " gruffed Warren, "Both are grand places; New York is exciting but- now, Boston…Boston, my boy, is a place you can really settle down. Find someone special and enjoy the slower pace of life. "

"Well, Warren does have a point," Estelle said, "New York is very hectic. If it weren't for my career, we'd probably live in Boston. Or at least commute between the two places. Yet, who can beat the bustling vitality of New York City? It just depends on what you want to get out of life, I suppose."

"Pshaw, careers come and go but they don't keep you warm at night!" Warren rebutted, "Finding a mate, that's much harder to do. It's not easy to find someone as wonderful as my little Estelle."

Estelle smiled at her husband. "You'll have to excuse Warren. He gets sentimental in his old age."

"humph!" grumbled Warren, but he was smiling at her too, "Let me give you some good advice. Have a career. Find someone. But you're not going to find this ideal person if you're working all the time. After all, it's not like your true love is the person working alongside you!"

Mike coughed and almost choked on his wine.

"Uh… look over there, "said Mike, turning around to look out the window, "did you know that the façade of the John Hancock Tower across the street resembled an Italian palazzo?"

"What the hell…" asked Warren confused.

Estelle seemed to read the situation with clarity.

"Okay, right. We know when it is time to change the subject" she said, "What was the topic? Oh, yes. Originally, we were discussing Mike choosing between Boston and New York, right? Got it. I am sure you will make the right decision at the end. …and not a moment too soon, here are our menus." She smiled as the waiter approached.

As Warren looked over the menu, Estelle looked up from hers to get Mike's attention. Mike, by chance, glanced up. She silently mouthed the words "New York" to Mike from across the table. He grinned and then continued reading his menu.

The rest of the luncheon went splendidly. In three days the symposium will be over and he will need to make his final decision. Although Mike was still indecisive about his dilemma, he was enjoying his stay in Boston. And now the weekend was around the corner. He was looking forward to watching the Yankees play.

It was already Friday in the DA's office. There seemed to be a lull in the office noise as everyone anticipated getting ready for the weekend.

Connie sat at her desk, trying to finish her work before the weekend. The case was slipping from her grasp. She had been able to send out all the subpoenas and search warrants, hoping the detectives would be able to complete the work. She also had been able to obtain a continuance until Monday, but that was just around the corner.

Connie was looking over the notes she had written for her opening statement, "The prosecution will show…" Show what? Could the evidence be considered circumstantial? Will the defense be able to shutdown all her viable arguments? She was tired of staring at a mostly blank pad of paper.

A couple of office workers past by. Afternoon was approaching and the case was going nowhere.

When the office was almost emptied of employees at lunchtime, Connie looked around and covertly opened her drawer to extract Mike's baseball. She held it in her hand and closed her eyes. It was reassuring to feel something so solid. So reliable. So wonderful.

She opened her eyes. Oops, not thinking of the baseball any longer. She closed her eyes again to picture the surveillance tape of hotel attendant Patel pushing the cart down the hallway.

Look at it from a different angle. Connie recalled Jack's advice. She had seen the surveillance tape so many times, she had it committed to memory. This time she didn't think about Sameer Patel, or the view of the hallway in the tape. She focused on the movement of the cart.

Connie opened her eyes. An idea came to her. Putting the baseball down, she picked up the phone and hoped Anita Van Buren was still in her office at the 2-7 at lunchtime.

It was late afternoon by the time Connie was finishing up at the 2-7, Police Headquarters. Detectives Lupo and Bernard and Lieutenant Van Buren were with Connie in Van Buren's office.

Lupo had a copy of Henderson's will that had been FedExed to the police station.

"Seems that Jane was telling the truth," Lupo stated, "Henderson's sister—Jane's Aunt—was made executor of the will and has access to funds until Jane reaches her majority."

Bernard checked his notes, "…and I did some checking on our buddy, Sameer Patel. Bank records show that $1,000 was deposited in his account 2 days before the murder."

"Maybe that's a large hotel tip, but I don't think so" Van Buren stated in her usual slow but commanding way, " Stands to reason he was probably involved in some way, but can we tie him with the murder?"

"That's why I came down here," Connie said, "I wanted to show all of you something I noticed on the surveillance tape with Patel."

Lupo hit a few keys on the computer keyboard and the hotel surveillance video with Patel appeared on the monitor. Everyone surrounded Lupo's computer. He fast forwarded a portion of the tape.

"Okay, stop!" Connie commanded after viewing the hotel video for a few seconds, "Here and here. Look." She pointed on the freeze frame picture with her pen.

"Oh, yeah, yeah," said Bernard, "I see it! The old David Copperfield trick."

"It's clear to me, too," said Van Buren, nodding, "I think it's time we contact CSU."

For the first time since she had received the case, Connie was feeling confident again.

"Huh?" questioned Lupo, staring at the screen.

By the end of the day on Friday, Connie was looking forward to the game on Saturday.

By the end of the day on Friday, Mike was looking forward to the game on Saturday.

_(P.S. The reviewers are the ones that have inspired me to churn out these chapters so quickly. I thank you and am truly humbled that you have taken time off from your busy day to read my story. Hope you hang around for Chp. 7! I'm pretty proud of it and I hope everyone else will like it too. Whether you are new or not, please review chapter 6. Thanks!) _


	7. Chapter 7

Mike and Connie reach a pivotal moment.

LAW AND ORDER 7

Connie's first impression upon reaching Yankee Stadium was overpowering. The stadium architecture was reminiscent of the ancient Roman Colosseum except the exterior wall had been recast in limestone, granite and cast stone. Towering arched windows dominated the front wall as the words _Yankee Stadium_, displayed in an art deco motif, stood high above the structure.

Inside Connie walked through the brightly lit seven-storied high concourse, bursting with a variety of food booths, fans and memorabilia. The clean, white walls were lined with wall-length banners of past and present Yankee superstars from Babe Ruth, to Mickey Mantle to Derek Jeter to Alex Rodriquez.

Steve, her date, was standing next to her and interrupted her thoughts, "You seem so impressed with the stadium," Connie's first perception of Steve was he reminded her of someone who should be on the cover of _The Preppy Handbook_. Wearing a pink polo shirt and khaki pants, he had beach blonde hair and brown eyes.

"This is truly astounding." Connie said looking all around her. Although she knew nothing about baseball, she discerned she was viewing baseball's distinguished history.

"Wait until you see the seats we have," Steve commented as they walked to their seats, "I sold an XJ model Jaguar to this guy who has part ownership of this club. I threw in the Platinum Plus coverage and he gave me these great seats. I am a hero at the dealership."

"Oh. That's nice." Connie was more impressed with the stadium than her date.

They found their seats, and just as her sister had stated, it was directly behind

home plate. Connie looked down at the ballpark and saw manicured dirt lines placed amid the lush green carpet of grass that made up the baseball diamond. She could smell the bountiful bluegrass, hear boisterous fans, and see the grand wonder of the entire stadium from her seat. She was beginning to understand Mike's appreciation of the game.

"So, you're an ambulance chaser, eh?" Steve again.

"Actually I am an assistant district attorney."

"Hey, I know that. I was just being funny." Steve watched the players as they dashed out to the field.

Oh, he's a witty one, Connie thought to herself sardonically.

It was the bottom of the 4th inning. The Yankees were leading the Red Sox, 1-0.

Connie continued to take in the atmosphere of the entire ballpark. Steve was talking to her now about the new features of the Jaguar XKR175 coupe. Connie heard, but did not absorb.

Instead she fantasized that Mike was sitting next to her, which brought a faraway smile to her face.

He would be excited in a way that she had never seen before, pointing out the various ballplayers or analyzing different plays.

"See over there?" She imagined Mike might say to her as he pointed eagerly to the far back seats, "That's where I caught a fly ball when I was 12. What's-his-face (Connie didn't know any ballplayer's names) had just hit a homerun. I stuck out my glove and the ball just landed right in the center of it! Smack-dab in the middle! Best day ever!"

Of course it is all conjecture, but that is the story Connie will envision every time she sees the worn ball in Mike's office.

"—okay, Connie?" Steve broke into her thoughts.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Steve—did you say something?"

"I said I'm going down to the concession stand and get us some beer. Do you want to come?"

"Sure," Connie said as they stepped down from the stands.

Between the exterior perimeter wall and interior stadium was the Great Wall, a large hallway between gates 4 and 6. Various shops and mini-restaurants adorned the concourse. Steve and Connie squeezed in line among the other patrons.

"Wow, it's rather crowded here," Connie commented, feeling she was being pressed left and right, "—do you mind if I wait outside this place?"

"Not at all. Looks to be a good 15 minute wait anyway with this long line," Steve raised his voice in order to be heard above the noise.

Connie stepped outside to wait. A flower stand was situated next door. Connie wandered over to look at the colorful bouquets. The festoon of flowers included everything from amaryllises to marigolds to zinnias.

Daisies, which were her favorites, were wrapped in yellow paper with a white bow and placed in a big white bucket. She picked up one wrapped bouquet and took a deep whiff, the bright white petals almost touching her nose. The floral aroma filled her with contentment.

In the course of holding the flowers, however, the hairs on the back of her neck curiously stood up. How strange. Perplexed, she looked around the stadium hallway.

_And then she saw him. _

A look of bewilderment showed on Mike's face as he stood on the other side of the concourse, across the way. With the continuous flow of fans walking throughout the passageway, she had almost missed him. But it was him. _Focusing on her_. She kept moving her upper body back and forth so the walking public would not obstruct her sight of Mike. He was diagonally standing across the way, two stores down, dressed in a casual black tee shirt and regular blue jeans.

She held his gaze. It had been only four days, but she hadn't realized how much she had missed his presence, until now. She could not take her eyes off him. Had he always looked this attractive?

Mike seemed just as mesmerized by the sight of Connie holding the daisies. He had been caught totally by surprise.

He had planned on purchasing a ballgame program at one of the sundries shop, when he observed someone from a distance who resembled Connie lifting the bouquet of daisies from the bucket. But she wouldn't attend a baseball game, he initially thought. Yet no one but Connie could look that beautiful.

_And that's when he knew it had to be her._

She looked exquisitely alluring despite being dressed in a plain purple top, jeans and tennis shoes. It was like watching a light-hearted, enchanting movie as he observed her inhaling the sweet fragrance of the flowers. For a second he thought it was just a vision he had conjured up because finally they were both in the same zip code. But it was not a daydream; it was absolutely real.

It had seemed like forever since he had seen her and yet, had it only been four days?

Once he realized it was truly Connie, his look of apprehension turned to one of elated awareness. Time seemed to have stood still as they continued to stare in wonderment.

Connie remained at her spot, unable to move her feet. Slowly she placed the flowers in one hand and then she raised the other hand in an almost shy greeting to Mike.

Mike saw the tentative gesture. A smile slowly spread across his face. Without taking his eyes off her, he took a step towards her.

_He's coming over here._ Quiet euphoria kicked in. Connie felt her heart suddenly beating faster and faster. He was only about 30 feet away now.

Her heartbeat continued to accelerate. Soon he would be near her. Close to Mike again. Her knight- in- shining armor.

Her blissful brown eyes concentrated looking at his sparkling blue ones.

Then unexpectedly, she noted a slight scowl had suddenly appeared on Mike's face. A _scowl_? Why would he-

"Here you go!" Steve held two plastic cups of beer in his hands. The moment was broken. She had a fleeting look of him stopping in mid-step before Steve had stepped directly in her line of vision to Mike. _No_! Connie shifted back and forth, trying to catch a glimpse of Mike again.

"Connie, what's wrong?" Steve wanted to know as he moved in conjunction with her, not realizing he was blocking her from her desired view. "Are you okay?"

Connie swiftly but clumsily placed the daisies back into the white container at the flower stand.

"No!" She heard the panic in her own voice. "No, oh, please, no!" She maneuvered around Steve, almost slipping, and distanced herself away from him.

."Steve…I'm sorry!" she turned and called back to him,"… I have to go…sorry… uh… really sorry…I'll explain later!"

It took mere seconds to arrive at the spot where Mike had been standing just a minute earlier. Connie looked left, a distressful looked on her face. She turned right.

All she could see were people and then more people, casually perusing the storefront of shops and restaurants. She heard a loud male voice blaring some inaudible words from the intercom.

He was gone.

_(I really want to know what you think of this chapter—hopefully in nice way. May be too corny for some, but I have to admit, I am a real cornball! Personally, if this really happened to me, I'd probably faint! Ha!)_


	8. Chapter 8

Here is the fallout from that Saturday game. Mike has been through a lot, so I think he deserves a chapter of his own!

LAW AND ORDER 8

Sunday was usually a day of relaxation.

But not for Mike.

Checkout time for the Hyatt Regency Cambridge Hotel would be at noon. He had certainly appreciated staying here. The hotel room showcased a sophisticated urban feeling, with its subtle plaid carpet and espresso wood furniture accented with black glass. Regional black and white photographic artwork adorned the walls.

He folded another shirt to put in his suitcase.

Mike walked over to the large window that overlooked the Charles River. For the last time, he looked at the panoramic view of the Boston Skyline.

Although in the daytime the view was spectacular, he liked it at nighttime when the entire city would be beautifully lit and reflected on the river. It was the night that evoked the romance of the city.

But what did he know about romance?

Can't believe I was such an idiot, Mike thought as he recalled again yesterday's unfortunate scene at Yankee Stadium. He had hoped against hope that there was something special between Connie and him. They seemed to enjoy each other's company. Their working relationship just flowed. Beyond that, there were times when he felt a flicker of a spark between them.

This had been made more evident by the way she had looked at him at the stadium hallway yesterday. He had been so sure there were true feelings there. But maybe she was just shocked to run into him. Or he had willed himself to believe that she felt something when really, there was nothing there.

Looking back he should have known she wouldn't have come alone to the ballgame. That person carrying the two drinks was obviously with her. He was someone special in her life.

That guy was the special someone in her life. Not him. He felt totally alone.

Mike heaved a deep breath. How could he ever face her again? Even now his cheeks flushed at the embarrassment. If he stayed at the DA's office how could he work side by side with her everyday? Would she look at him with ridicule? Or worse, with scorn?

Yet, despite what had happened, that did not change how he felt about her.

Yesterday just verified that she didn't feel the same way about him. As he continued to look at the view, he stood up taller and heaved a sigh.

It was best he moved on.

Perhaps it would be best to start all over in Boston.

So now he was packing to stay at Dean Lateef and his wife's residence until he could find a more permanent place.

A knock on the door interrupted his thoughts. That would be Josh, his ride. Mike opened the door to let him in.

It had been a long four- hour drive from Yankee Stadium to Boston last night. Mike had not intended to share what had happened with Connie at Yankee Stadium with Josh. But Josh deserved an explanation about their quick departure from the game. So Mike told him the truth. Although not all of the truth. He left out some of his more private thoughts.

"Wow, check out this room!" Josh said looking around, "Are you sure you want to leave here to stay with Dean Lateef?"

"Just for a few days, until I can find a place of my own."

"And what area does the grand old Dean live?" Josh stuck his head in the bathroom.

"Beacon Hill," stated Mike.

Josh gave a short whistle. He was impressed. "Wow, moving up to the big times, my friend! You know, that's one of the most affluent residences in Boston. You'll be wining and dining with the likes of John Kerry, David Lee Roth and Carly Simon!"

" I guess I'll be in good company then." Mike deadpanned.

"I can't believe you're really moving here…to Boston…that's just great!" Josh said as he looked over the wet bar.

"That seems to be the case," said Mike as he folded another shirt.

I still don't get why you got so bent out of shape about what happened Saturday," Josh added, "I get it. You like her. Rubirosa is quite a looker, but there are a lot of hot ladies."

But none with qualities like Connie, Mike thought hopelessly.

"You know… I was thinking…" added Josh, "…maybe that guy you saw her with yesterday was a brother or cousin or some other relative. Did the guy look like her?"

"He looked like a blonde model in a JCrew catalog," replied Mike dismally, as he began to put his suits in the garment bag. Mike had not even been aware that Connie was dating. How long had Connie been dating that guy? Why had he not seen any hint of this in the office? Are they serious?

"Oh…then…tough luck, buddy," Josh said as he took a beer from the mini refrigerator.

"Say…I forgot to thank you for the tickets," Mike changed the subject, "Sorry, we left the stadium early."

"Don't worry about it, friend," said Josh waving the idea away with the can of beer in his hand, "I actually got the tickets for free working pro bono for a guy who had season tickets. I'll have other opportunities, other games to go to. No big loss. What's more important is we've got to mend that broken heart of yours"

Sometimes, Mike thought, Josh could be an empathetic friend.

"You _know…_" Josh began slowly as he flip topped the beer, "I just had an idea about how to start that mend. It's called "operation: replacement". We could go clubbing tonight. You know, dancing, drinking, some major schmoozing. Show some Bostonian ladies a good time."

Mike gave Josh the same look he gave in court when his objection was overruled.

"_Josh_," said Mike looking exasperated stretching out both arms to his side, "do I _look_ like the type of guy who goes 'clubbing'?"

"That's okay, you'll be with me," reasoned Josh, "I have enough charm for the two of us."

Cross out the thought that Josh could be an empathetic friend.

Mike shook his head at the improbability. He walked over to turn on the TV. He needed to do in-room checkout and was checking the room charges on the TV screen.

"Oh, great," said Mike sarcastically, under his breath as he viewed the charges.

"Why, what's up?" Josh took another gulp.

"The hotel overcharged me." Mike couldn't believe the day he was having, "My room doesn't have a Jacuzzi and I didn't order any room service. I'm going downstairs to settle this. Josh, you can stay up here and watch the game."

"O-_kay_… let me get this straight. You want me to stay in this luxurious hotel suite, drink beer _and_ watch the game. That's a lot to ask," said Josh, in a cheeky manner.

"And Josh," added Mike as he headed out the door, "—stay away from the snacks."

Josh shrugged, "You know me."

"—And that's why I said, stay away from the snacks." Mike reiterated as he left.

Josh gave his most innocent look and yelled out, "—even the cashews?"

Josh switched to golf on TV after Mike had left. What a bummer for Mike, Josh thought to himself. When he had worked in the DA's office in New York, he had actually enjoyed working with Rubirosa. The lady had class. Luckily, she wasn't his type. Too intelligent.

Maybe it's good with Mike moving here, he thought. Josh was actually glad to have another friend here in Boston.

Mike's blackberry buzzed. Josh went over to the credenza and looked at the caller ID. It read "Connie" on the screen. Josh looked around the room even though he knew he was the only one present. He picked up the blackberry.

"Looks like you'll not be breaking my buddy's heart any longer, Ru-bi-rosa" Josh said to himself as he deleted the call.

Back in New York, Connie had finally worked up the nerve to call Mike. She could hear his phone ringing and she was getting more nervous with each ring. Then suddenly the ringing stopped. As if he turned off his blackberry in the middle of her call, she dejectedly realized. It was as if he wanted nothing to do with her. Connie could only stare at her cell phone and then she pushed the "cancel" button.

(Note: I know some of you want our fave couple to meet up soon. This story has always been about their separate journey to finding each other. I hope I had kept it interesting enough. Let's just say there will be no more near-misses after this!)

_So, what did you think?_


	9. Chapter 9

The case gets wrapped up, but Connie doesn't feel the elation.

LAW AND ORDER 9

Monday found Connie at Rikers Island. This time she would be talking to Mia Myers, Jane's aunt, and her lawyer, Tom Mosley.

Entering the room, Connie took a deep breath and sat down. She would be going alone on this one. Mia entered with her attorney. Connie recognized the attorney as the one who defended three privileged teenagers for the beating of a Honduran immigrant. Despite the prosecution's best effort, the three boys were found not guilty. Connie hoped the defense attorney would not hold the win over her head.

It was not to be.

"Well, Miss Rubirosa, "Mosely greeted in a smug manner, "_what_… we won't be in the presence of the great Michael Cutter so that I can get a two-for-one win _again_?"

"It is not necessary to bring the big guns in on an open-and-shut case, Mr. Mosely."

"I'm innocent! I don't even know why I am here!" Mia interrupted. Unlike her frightened niece, Mia was full of indignation. Mosely lifted his hand to silence her.

Mosely sat directly across from Connie. "—And I thought you were here to tell us you were going to dismiss the case, just like you did for her niece this morning. Tsk. Tsk, Miss Rubirosa, you have to stop arresting people just for the fun of it."

"You won't think it is much fun, Mr. Mosely, when I show you all the evidence we have against your client." Connie stated calmly as she took some folders from her briefcase.

Mosely confidently sat back in his chair, "Saw it. Weak. And you're forgetting that the hotel surveillance tape shows that Mia was nowhere near the hotel that entire day."

"Well, let me explain to you how it went down, since you seem at a loss," Connie began, "Your client concocted this scheme long before in order to get a hold of the Henderson's fortune. First she pays Patel $1,000 to hide her in the room cart."

Connie shoved evidence of money transaction between the two and also a picture of the room cart with a shelf underneath, covered with a large white cloth.

"—Miss Myers has a petite frame like her niece. Small enough to hide inside, oh, let's just _say_, a hotel room service cart." Connie continued. "When Patel wheels her into the room, she patiently waits two hours until Jane goes to shower. At the right opportunity, she plunges the knife into her brother's back. She then escapes through the hotel window."

Connie then brandished an identified fingerprint on the windowsill.

"—She then contacts Patel on cell phone," Connie shows phone record logs, "—to verify he would be the first one in the room when Jane discovers the body. Jane is overly distraught, so it would be easy for him to slip away from her to secretly lock the window from the inside before the police arrive. Is that enough _fun_ for you, Mr. Mosely?"

Mosely didn't even twitch, "That's all you have? All of it can be explained away. Mia has stayed at that hotel many times. She called Patel to give him a monetary thank you for the many years of service. And the fingerprint on the windowsill? She had visited the Hendersons several times during their hotel stay. Haven't you heard of opening a window for a little fresh air?"

But Connie knew something he didn't.

"—But I am not done, Mr. Mosely. Results from CSU this morning."

She thrust the last picture in front of him. As Mosely and Mia Myers hunched over the picture, they were able to make out a fingerprint on the inside steeled leg of the hotel cart, underneath the cart tablecloth. The picture had labeled the fingerprint as being Mia's.

Mosely leaned away, in defeat. His shoulders drooped.

"So we can either wheel or deal now," Connie concluded, "or I will surely convict your client in court. It's your choice, Mr. Mosely— deal or no deal?"

It was late afternoon when Connie arrived back at her desk. She had to finish up the paperwork on the case.

She should be celebrating. She should feel ecstatic. But she felt a sense of melancholy, and it wasn't about the case.

The DA's office was once again humming with employees proceeding through their workday but they all seemed a blur to her.

It was the first time in her career at the DA's office that she did not feel motivated to work. She glanced over at her desk calendar and mentally took note that Mike would be back from Boston in two days. Hopefully she'll be able to explain everything to him. Everything.

She looked up when she heard an obligatory knock on her opened door. It was Jack.

"I hear congratulations are in order," Jack seemed in a good mood.

"Jane's aunt took the deal. "Connie forced herself to focus back on work, "Instead of chancing a trial with the possibility of a life sentence or the death penalty, she pleaded to man-one for 25 years. I'm just finishing up the paperwork now."

Jack nodded in acknowledgement, "The wheels of justice do grind in the right direction sometimes. I'm very proud about how you've handled the case."

"Thanks, Jack." Connie looked down and pretended to start back on her paperwork. She really just wanted to be alone with her thoughts.

Instead, Jack sat in the adjoining seat facing her.

"There's something else I need to tell you, Connie." Jack suddenly looked glum, which made Connie feel anxious, "I wanted to wait until the Henderson case was over before I inform you of this news. Didn't want you to be distracted." He looked down to gather his thoughts.

"Yes, Jack?" Connie asked impatiently, "Just come out with it."

" Connie…he's leaving us." Jack's statement was short and to the point.

Connie didn't have to be told who "he" was and Jack knew he didn't need to explain. She placed her pen down to give him all her attention.

To Connie's consternation, Jack explained how Mike had been offered a professorship at Boston University and that he had accepted the position as of this morning.

Connie's heart sank.

"I was flabbergasted over his decision." Jack was almost talking to himself, "We had talked previously, but he didn't seem inclined to take that job. I wasn't really worried, which is why I never discussed it with you. This decision seemed to have come at the last possible moment. Can't figure it out."

"I-I wouldn't know, Jack."

Jack looked directly at her, trying to read something into her statement. "Maybe you could talk to him…"

Connie shook her head and looked down, "No, Jack, he. won't. talk. to me."

Jack's eyebrows were raised. He knew Connie spoke with certainty, but he didn't know why.

"Is there something I should know?"

Connie showed defeat. "Nothing you or I can fix, Jack."

Jack continued to look at Connie, but it was obvious she was not going to say anything more. He stood up.

"I know I've butted heads many times with him." Jack was being reminiscent, and spoke in a soft, burly manner. "But in my opinion, there is no finer person than Mike. He has heart and character. I will miss him."

Connie couldn't agree more. Jack left and she was alone at her desk again.

Law clerks, paralegals and attorneys, loaded with files and boxes, walked back and forth out of brightly lit rooms. It seemed like a regular working day, but not to Connie. She glanced over at the one room that remained pitch-dark. Mike's office. She felt the solitude of the empty, dark room.

The thought that she would never see him at work filled her with lonely misery. Yet, what more could she do? He would not even take her call.

Back to work, Connie thought. She opened her drawer to get a highlighter. That's when she saw Mike's tattered baseball. All the memories flooded back to her about what had occurred at Yankee Stadium. This time she tried to ignore the awkward moment of that day and just concentrate on the positive.

She recalled how she felt when she saw Mike that Saturday. Thinking about it made her feel something deep inside she had never before experienced. It had been heartfelt exhilaration at the sight of him, at the thought of being close to him again. She wanted that feeling back. She wanted him back. Connie knew what she must do.

Connie took the short walk to Jack's office and knocked on the door.

"Come in," he said in his usual brusque manner. He had been intently looking over some papers at his desk, his glasses pushed down to almost the end of his nose. He looked up.

"Jack," Connie started, trying to keep her nervousness down, "I would appreciate a couple of days off. I need to go out of town."

Jack removed his glasses quickly and stood up, waiting to hear what Connie

was going to say next. Connie took a deep breath.

"I'm going to get him back." She stated with quiet determination.

Jack nodded. "Go get our boy," he simply said.

_(We are reaching home stretch now! Again, please let me know what you think about this chapter.)_


	10. Chapter 10

I thought it would be nice for their story to end at the same place it began.

Mike and Connie's lives intersect once more.

Chapter 10

It was 9 o'clock at night and Mike was back at the DA's office in New York City.

He had come to pack his things up and give his office a once over before departing permanently for Boston. It had been a long night's drive from Boston, but he knew the DA's office would be empty of employees at this hour.

He loved his office. The EADA's office was a conglomerate of wood paneled desks, bulletin boards, and blinds. Books and files filled every tabletop. Props from various cases were displayed on file cabinets and boxes. A picture on one wall showcased an artist's rendition of him prosecuting a case. His strategy board still had notes from his last case. It was a working office.

Looking around, he felt his office looked exactly the same as when he left, except there was a pile of completed files from Connie.

Mike took a deep breath, put his hands in his pockets and turned around to view New York City from his office window. The quietness of the darkened city below only heightened his feeling of loneliness.

He knew he had to get over her. She had her own life and now he needed to create a separate life from her.

Her smile and warmth would be the qualities he will miss most about her. She added a human compassion to this office.

Just knowing she was sitting outside his office made his day better.

But she had created a life with someone else.

He again pictured her on that day at Yankee stadium, totally enmeshed with the daisies. She looked stunningly happy. It will be the image he will always cherish.

He sat down in his chair for one last time.

How many hours had he spent in here strategizing motions for indictments, grand juries, allocutions and plea bargains? How many hours had he spent to insure truth and justice prevailed? Enough of this nostalgia, he thought.

He will look towards the future.

Now it will be his job to introduce law, not practice it. But he will use that same fierce determination he had towards prosecuting criminals to teach law. The world of academia awaits him.

He stood up. It was time to move forward. Right now he needed to get the packing boxes from the mailroom downstairs.

Afterwards, he will type up his resignation letter to leave on Jack's desk. Even leave him a bottle of scotch.

Perhaps in a week, he may work up the nerve to call Connie to say goodbye. He just couldn't do that now.

With this plan in his head, he walked into the hallway and pushed the elevator button to go downstairs to the mailroom to get the cardboard boxes.

As his elevator door shut to go down, the elevator door adjacent to it 'dinged' up and stopped on the very floor Mike had just left.

The elevator door opened and Connie walked past the hallway to her desk. She had some last minute things to do before she left on her long drive to Boston.

The entire floor of the DA's office was dark and quiet. Except one office.

The janitors must have forgotten to shut Mike's office lights off, Connie thought, glancing at Mike's office from her desk. She placed her files down. Mike's baseball was still on her desk.

The knowledge that she would never again see Mike pacing with this baseball in his office filled her heart with a sad emptiness.

But she must learn how to carry on her own. Without him.

She carried the Henderson file and Mike's baseball into his office to put on his desk.

When she stepped behind his desk, Connie noticed Mike's chair had been pulled out. Strange.

She placed the baseball down in its original site on his desk and sat down in his desk chair.

Rocking in his chair back and forth with her arms on the armrest, she recalled so many cases, so many circumstances she had experienced in his office.

Mike was the one who shared each frustration, each revelation, and each victory of her working life.

She now realized that it was not just the challenge of the job that kept her motivated everyday. It was breathing, working, and being next to Mike everyday.

Will she be able to convince him to come back? What will she say to him?

Still seated, Connie pulled the chair directly under his desk. She hunched over Mike's desk, rubbing her temples. The uncertainty of the future was giving her a slight headache.

As she pondered various scenarios of what she might say when she sees him in Boston, she heard some noise in the main area of the DA's office.

It sounded like boxes being moved about. The janitors were probably coming back to finish the job, she half-internalized. She should be leaving soon anyway. She sighed.

What reason could she give him to get him to stay?

Perhaps she could present a case to him that only he, with his expertise, could prosecute. That could keep him here a little longer.

Or that everyone in the office was overwhelmed with work and the office needed him because they were shorthanded. Again, that could buy her some time.

Or perhaps she will tell him that Jack said-

"_Connie."_

That voice. Connie stopped rubbing her temples. She had heard that voice a thousands times in her thoughts. But this time she wasn't imagining it in her mind.

She felt a quiver running up and down her back. She haltingly looked up.

She was looking right into a pair of intense blue eyes.

_It was Mike._

_Next chapter will be the final chapter!_

_Let me know what you think. _


	11. Chapter 11

Mike and Connie's story reaches a final conclusion.

CHAPTER 11

_Mike._

As she sat at his desk and looked up, she saw Mike standing on the other side with a probing gaze. She stared back, mesmerized by his presence. All thoughts escaped her except for the realization that he was standing right in front of her.

Instinctively, Mike reached down both his hands towards Connie. From where she was seated, Connie looked up at his accepting hands. Tentatively she placed her hands in his.

Both instantly felt the magic when they touched.

Wordlessly he wrapped his fingers securely around hers. She held on to his hands as she slowly stood up, pushing out his chair.

Lost in each other's eyes, they stood across the desk, facing each other.

United as one.

"You're here." Connie's voice sounded breathless.

"I'm here." His voice sounded a little hoarse and he could not take his eyes off her.

"I was on my way…to Boston…to convince you to come back." Connie forgot all about the invented excuses she was going to make up to get Mike to stay.

He looked at her, surprise registering in the depth of his eyes. "But I saw you… at Yankee Stadium with _him_…"

"No," she shook her head slowly, "there was no _him._ Ever."

Mike scrutinized her words, unable to believe what she was saying. But she looked back at him with openness.

"…so there is nothing between you and the model?" Mike really needed to know.

Connie at first had a puzzled look. When she realized he had been referring to Steve, she smiled gleefully.

"'Model', is it?" she bantered , " Is _that_ his made- up first name? Model? Then tell me, if 'Model' is his first name, what is his last name?"

"…Of-the-year." He ran the words together to make it sound as one. He tried to keep a straight face.

Connie laughed. He liked the sound of her melodic laughter.

She noted his smile.

"I'm afraid he was at a disadvantage," teased Connie, "You see, Mr. Model-Of-the-Year didn't have cute dimples like you."

Mike couldn't believe she was flirting with him. But her eyes were filled with mischievous merriment.

"Oh _really_?" He tried to sound casual, but he couldn't help blushing, " -and when had you become so shallow?"

Connie became serious again.

"The day I met you."

He glanced down calmly ecstatic and noticed they were still holding hands. The thought that the attraction was mutual was beyond anything he could hope for.

All this gave him new confidence.

"In light of everything, I would love to treat you to a celebratory dinner," invited Mike, " I heard how you brilliantly handled the Henderson case."

Connie smiled but then reluctantly let go of his hands. "I'm sorry, Mike…I don't think I can do a celebratory dinner."

Mike was riding a roller coaster of emotions.

He stepped back. Nervously he put one of his hands in his pockets and the other one he ran nervously through his hair, "Oh…of course…you must be busy…"

But Connie had never stopped smiling.

"The reason why I cannot possibly go out to a celebratory dinner with you," she explained, "is because that would mean discussing a win about one of our cases. And I do not intend to talk about _any_ cases over dinner. We should talk about _us_. Only us, if that's okay with you."

Mike was at a high point on that roller coaster.

"You do understand, don't you," he reasoned, " that what you just stated is the very definition of a… dare I say it… _a date_?"

"—a date" Connie repeated, turning the words over in her mind. A date with dreamy Michael Cutter. It thrilled her beyond words.

"I shall make it official." Mike pretended to clear his throat, "Connie Rubirosa, would you like to go on a date with me? Please?" He looked at her with a hopeful expression, which made him look all the more endearing.

Connie felt weak at the knees, but she played along. "Let me think about that…yes, yes and yes."

"…I see you're a little hesitant…" Mike said kiddingly, but pleased. He then indicated with his finger for Connie to follow him to his white-out strategy board located on his side door. On the way, he retrieved his expo marker from his desk.

"Maybe this will win you over." He raised his eyebrows mischievously and uncapped the marker.

Connie was puzzled. "Mike, you're not going to write out the strategy for our date are you?"

He shook his head and started drawing some crude lines on the board. Connie detected long lines, small circles and oval lines radiating from the circles. She smiled when he had completed his sketch.

"That is the loveliest bouquet of daisies I have ever seen!" Connie said as her hands subconsciously went up to her heart and she turned to face him.

"If I had known that I really _did_ have a chance with you…" Mike began, " I would have shown up at your door with a bright bouquet of these. Now, before you make your final decision about a date with me, keep in mind that these are drawn from my heart."

Connie reached out and touched the drawing, being careful not to erase any of the lines.

Who knew that the driven, dynamic prosecutor known as Michael Cutter was really a romantic?

"The daisies are lovely and I would absolutely love a date with you." She reached over to give him a friendly hug.

The minute their bodies touched, however, it was something stronger than just an amiable gesture.

A caressing spark shimmered throughout both their bodies. They instantly felt a powerful surge of warmth radiating all over.

Mike wanted to kiss her. She was so close.

Their arms were still wrapped around each other as they stood, totally absorbed in the presence of the other.

Mike could not believe she was finally in his arms. She was so beautiful with those gentle brown eyes, he mused. Her loveliness captivated all of his senses.

As he started to lean in, he saw her lips slightly part.

Suddenly the loud shrieking siren of an ambulance from outside startled them.

They were back to the reality of the DA's office, the enchanted moment broken.

Smiling, they reluctantly separated, the magnetic pull of attraction slowly dissipating.

They became two once more.

The never- ending sounds of car and bus horns could be heard. The rush of traffic whooshed from down below on the streets.

It was a reminder that New York City was outside. And it was getting late.

"We should go," he gently stated and then added, "together."

He held out his hand again and Connie placed her hand lovingly in his.

Both knew nothing would ever keep them apart again

"Together," Connie softly responded.

The DA's office, which once was filled with a lonely darkness at night, was suddenly charged with a feeling of cherished intimacy.

The allure of the night was calling them.

As they strolled out of the DA's office at the end of another workday, EADA Michael Cutter and ADA Connie Rubirosa contently had thoughts only of each other.

THE END

Let me know if you liked the ending. Please review.

I've enjoyed typing every single word. Thank you so much for reading my story all the way through!

Please watch for my next Mike and Connie story, _Motion to Suppress. _

I can't wait to post chapter one!

Always keep a little romance in your heart!


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